


The Man Hath Penance Done (And Penance More Will Do)

by Jackdaw816



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Series 03: Children of Earth (Torchwood), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Rehabilitation, Reunions, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26646580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: A week after the Hub was destroyed, Gray woke up
Relationships: Gray (Torchwood) & Jack Harkness
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	The Man Hath Penance Done (And Penance More Will Do)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"
> 
> I have no clue what prompted this idea, but I'm right and Gray deserved better, so here you go!

The explosion didn’t wake him, although it rocked his icy tomb. No, what woke Gray was a faint but insistent beeping. If he had the proper frame of reference for it, he would have compared it to an alarm clock. But Boeshanians rose with the sun, and his captors had much harsher ways of waking prisoners. As it was, Gray was just mildly irritated.

He tried to sit up and smacked his head on the chamber roof. He groaned and lay back down, clutching a hand to his head. He was cold; a chill that went deep to his bones. As he gingerly prodded at his head to make sure there was no damage, he discovered his hair was damp with melting ice crystals.

He had been frozen? Cryostasis, perhaps. Explained the bone-deep chill. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. He’d come to Earth with his brother’s lovelorn ex firmly under his heel. He’d blown the city to pieces, then buried Jack in the foundation. He thought he’d won; his vengeance obtained. But there was no relief in the action, none of the sweet bliss he’d thought come with revenge.

And then Jack had come back. His beloved brother had forgiven him, pitifully. Gray hadn’t returned the sentiment, but Jack had embraced him. Apologized. Suffocated him with a sweet-smelling handkerchief. 

He’d awoken here in this cryochamber, cold, but alive. Alive and awake, despite Jack’s obvious plan to the contrary. He looked around, the chamber lit dimly, just enough to make out the door at his feet. He started to kick, but it didn’t budge. He growled a curse and felt around. There had to be something he could use.

The beeping died off, and Gray realized just how quiet everything was. Had no one come to investigate the alarm? Surely, Jack would still be around. He was immortal; it was the one damn thing he could do. He kicked at the door again, a slow but steady fear rising. Was he hemmed in by corpses yet again? Was the universe taunting him, making him relive the worst days of his life? Most days of his life, to be honest. But that didn’t make them any worse.

He felt something give and he kicked harder, harnessing his fear and using it as force. There was a clatter, and the door swung open about halfway before hitting something solid. Gray grinned before slowly sliding himself down. 

It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to slip out and into the fresh air. Fresh being a very relative term. He was still underground; still in Jack’s base. Not to mention it smelled like mildew, ashes, and the horribly tell-tale stench of rotting corpses. It was revoltingly familiar and Gray breathed slowly through his mouth as he looked around.

The room was heavily damaged. Debris was everywhere, and one wall had collapsed entirely. A steel girder had fallen down from above, piercing the ground, and almost blocking Gray’s chamber. He shuddered; if that had been any closer, he would have been trapped in there until he perished from thirst.

As it was, he still might. His situation was… not great. The obvious doors across the room were blocked. He could probably crawl up through the wreckage of the fallen wall, but who knew what he would find up there? Was the threat still around? And just how long had he been in frozen sleep?

Gray moved to check the readout on his chamber. He’d been put into storage in February, and it was now September, whatever that meant. He didn’t know the English names for time, just the increments themselves. He didn’t think too much time had passed, though. Less than a year, definitely.

Poking around more, he discovered that when the base had been destroyed by… something, the power had been cut to the cryochambers. As a default, the system safely thawed any live captives, siphoning away the power keeping the corpses cool. Well, that explained the smell at least. He’d spent the last week reviving, and they’d spent the last week rotting.

A quick search revealed that he had been the only one revived, although he spotted an open door down the row. He wrote it off as a poorly-secured latch and turned his attention back to finding an escape. He needed to find Jack, needed to make him pay. Gray had been abandoned yet again, left to the mercy of unmerciful forces.

A clang and a swear echoed from above. Gray was instantly on edge, hand going for a weapon no longer at his side. Someone else was here. He wasn’t alone in the rubble.

“Who’s there?” he shouted, betraying the advantage of being hidden for the chance of rescue. There was no verbal answer, just the clatter of boots then the sound of stones scraping together. Gray took a wary step back as he listened to the scrabbling above him. He squinted upward, but he could barely make out the shadowed mass that was the ceiling.

There was a gunshot then two more in rapid succession. Gray flinched, but the shots weren’t aimed for him, and only one had managed to punch through, leaving a single stream of faint light. He listened warily as the person started to hit the ceiling, bricks breaking free and falling, creating more light.

As soon as the hole was big enough for a person or two, the pounding ceased. Gray didn’t hear anything for a minute or so and started to panic. Even with the light, he still had no way of getting up there, no way of getting out. Then a rope was dropped, the dark skein unfurling as it went. Gray approached it cautiously.

“Well, c’mon, then. Get out of there!” A voice called. Maybe it was the cryostasis fogging his mind, but he swore he recognized that voice. No matter, it was an escape. He grabbed the rope and started to climb, muscles complaining from lack of use. When he reached the top, a hand reached out and he took it.

“Thank you,” Gray grunted. He planted one foot solidly on the brick and was pulled up. It was still dark up here, and he couldn’t quite make out his rescuer’s face. There was the click of a torch, and a very familiar grin lit up the dark.

“No problem,” John Hart said, still grinning. The torch flickered up onto Gray’s face, and he blinked in the sudden light. When the spots subsided, John had taken a step back, gun trained on Gray’s chest. “Oh hell no.”

“John,” Gray said coolly, raising his hands. They hadn’t had the best history. Lots of manipulation and pain on both their parts. Gray supposed John was bitter about the molecularly-fused bomb. It had been a particularly brilliant move if he did say so himself.

“I should leave you here,” John snarled. “Better yet, just shoot you here and now.”

“Then why did you pull me out?” Gray asked. John rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t come here for you. I came to sift the wreckage for anything valuable. When I detected life, I thought it was Jack.” John huffed. “Instead, I got the evil brother.”

“Jack is the evil one!” John gave him a pitying look, and Gray really wished he was the one holding the gun.

“Jack is far better than either of us,” John said calmly.

“So why is he hiding?” Gray spat. “Why did he leave me to rot?” John cocked his head.

“You have absolutely no clue what’s happened here, do you?” Gray frowned but shook his head slowly. “Jack’s team has been destroyed,” John said, his tone clipped. “His base blown to shit, his friends and family hunted by the government, his past come back to haunt him.” Gray grinned. 

“Good. He’s getting what he deserves.” 

“People died, Gray, people he loved!” John shouted, expression scandalized. The rubble trembled around them. “Do you really think he deserves this?

“He let go of my hand! He let me be taken-”

“And he’s never forgiven himself for that!” John took a deep breath, gun shaking slightly. “He has never forgiven himself for letting go of you, Gray. He has never stopped beating himself up over a childhood mistake.”

“It was a pretty fucking big mistake.”

“But it was a mistake!” John snapped back. “You were children. It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t Jack’s fault. It was _their_ fault, and no one else’s.” Gray stood stock-still. John had tried this argument before, but now, it hit differently. He’d had his revenge, but Gray didn’t feel satisfied. He just felt hollow.

“He let go of my hand,” Gray repeated numbly.

“And you buried him alive.” John took a half-step closer. “You made me bury him alive; you took my love for him and you used it against me, and I will _never_ forgive you for that.” Gray didn’t say anything; he couldn’t. If he did, he was fairly certain John would just shoot him. “But Jack has. He’s forgiven you.” John took a shuddering breath. “It was always his greatest weakness. And his greatest strength.”

“Why did he forgive me?” Gray murmured, not so much to John as to himself. Jack had absolutely no reason to forgive him. And yet he had, in both John’s words and his own. If Gray wanted Jack’s forgiveness, he had it. “But do I want him to?” John lowered the gun, but Gray didn’t doubt he was any less dangerous.

“He wants you to,” John said simply. “That’s all he wanted, for you to accept his forgiveness. He’s done his penance, far more than he was due.” Gray looked away, not wanting John to see the tears forming in his eyes.

“I know,” Gray admitted. “I know. But I’m still _so_ angry. Every time I think about him, I just want to _break_ him.”

“You want to hurt him until he feels what you felt.” Gray nodded, short and stiff. John offered a weak smile. “I get it. Trust me, I get it. But you can’t live like this. You can’t keep misdirecting your anger.” Gray swallowed hard, emotion causing a lump in his throat.

“But what can I do?” 

“First of all, we can get out of here before it all comes tumbling down,” John said, holstering his gun. “And second, you can get help. If you want to change, you can work through it. I know a place you can go, someplace safe until you’re ready to see him again.”

“Do you think he’ll want to see me?” Gray said softly. John shrugged.

“I don’t always do honest, but honestly? Yes. All he’s ever wanted is you safe and happy, Gray,” John said. There was a moment or two of silence, tension coiled between them like a venomous snake. But then Gray sighed, and the tension melted like the ice in his hair.

“Alright,” Gray said, nodding. “Let’s go.” He didn’t miss John’s flinch when he took his arm, but John didn’t shake him off and leave him behind, so he considered it an improvement. He would have to apologize, eventually. But then again, it wasn’t John’s forgiveness he was seeking. The Rift swallowed them up, and Gray smiled quietly to himself.

Gray spent over a year in a rehabilitation facility until they declared him fit to face the world again. It took him several more months before he asked John to bring Jack to see him. The reunion took place on Boeshane, in the sand dunes where it had all begun. 

Jack looked older, hair graying, eyes weary. But he’d lit up upon seeing Gray smile at him; not undamaged, but starting to heal. They’d embraced, and Gray had sobbed his apologies into his brother’s shoulder. He couldn’t ever make up for what he’d done, but he could try. Jack had held him tight, kissed his forehead, and told him again that he was forgiven.

And this time, Gray believed him.


End file.
